


Worst Case Scenario

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Arias goes full monster and fucks Leon, M/M, Monster porn, its not pretty, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 19:11:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: Glenn Arias, grieving widower and bloodthirsty psychopath, has plans for Leon S. Kennedy where death is not included, though Leon sorely wishes it were.





	Worst Case Scenario

**Author's Note:**

> God has left the building

Leon S. Kennedy had to meet Chris upstairs, the thought being the only reason Leon was still standing with only one clip left to his name and his heart pounding in his chest. Corpses surrounded him, the stench something he’d grown used to long ago, but never managing to shake after the deed was done. Leon gave himself two weeks before he’d forget the smell and it would definitely linger on his clothes even longer. It was a shame, considering how much he liked this jacket. Chris— his eyes had lingered on Leon a moment longer than normal when he’d seen it. And that didn’t happen often, so Leon hoped he’d be able to find a good dry cleaners that would be able to handle the leather delicately while still ridding it of the scent. If Leon ever managed to get the courage to ask Redfield out, he would be sure to wear this jacket. 

There was a clatter from below, then the whole building shook. Leon grimaced and kicked aside the dead in his way, looking around to regain his bearings, trying to find the bike, the gorgeous Ducati that he hoped he’d get to keep after this. It was against the far wall, all the way down the corridor, but its lights were still flashing red, hazards complaining against Leon’s abuse. Still functioning, still useful. Leon was already plotting out the quickest way to get above, either the elevator or the stairs, and hoped Chris would be able to last long enough for Leon to arrive and save his ass again.

“Honestly, Redfield,” Leon murmured to himself as he jogged to the bike, the tremors leaving his hands as he compartmentalized and shifted focus to the next task. “You’d be lost without me.”

There as a rumble again, shaking the floor beneath his feet, nearly knocking Leon to the floor. He stopped in his tracks as he tried to keep steady. No good falling and cracked his head open on the marble beneath. The trembling continued, a deep rhythm that was beginning to feel like— like footsteps, or climbing, something making progress. He’d fought enough monsters to know the difference between machinery kicking to life and a behemoth against the laws of nature rearing its ugly head. Leon cursed and brought his gun back out. The SIG-Sauer P226 E2 was new and a little loose in his hand, but it had already proven to be a damn good weapon, and he knew it would get him through whatever came next. 

The heavy thumps were coming from the stairwell, something big coming closer, higher and higher. Who knew what kind of B.O.W.s were in this place, sick creatures of Arias’s design, like the huge fucker with the gatling gun that had killed Patricio and the poor server back in Colorado. Leon didn’t know what exactly was coming, but he could bet it would be at least thrice his size and fugly as hell. If he was lucky, it would go right past him and onto the roof.

The door to the stairwell was suddenly throw off its hinges as the wall surrounding crumbled, rubble falling forward as a genuine monsters burst into the corridor. A jigsaw puzzle of flesh and organs, two faces that twisted inside the mass of tissue. It was held together by black ribbons of cartilage and ruined bone, rolling muscle acting as skin, bubbling waste oozing from the cracks with veins of white and red framing the faces. Leon didn’t recognize one, but the other—

“Kennedy,” the monster growled as it pushed into the corridor, footsteps slapping and making Leon stumble away simply out of revulsion.

“Arias,” Leon replied, grinning shakily as he counted his bullets and knew he needed to get some more fast for this. “Gotta say— you don’t exactly match the pictures. Something tells me I’m being cat-fished.”

“I’ll make you pay for what they did!” Arias roared, those empty white eyes boring into Leon. Leon took another step back, thinking of the elevator that would just be a kill box, the secondary stairwell that he’d never make it to in time, the rooms that he could hide in, but only temporarily. Leon brought the gun up and remained calm even as the odds were stacked against him and Arias took a step forward, the thick, meaty leg making the ground shake. “Redfield will meet his end,” Arias rumbled. “But you— you’re something special.”

Leon was able to fire one bullet that slammed into Arias’s shoulder as Arias’s hand extended and claws as thick as barbells shot out, piercing Leon’s jacket and sending him flying across the corridor to collide with the wall behind him. Leon groaned softly and tried to lift his head after it had been cracked on the stone, his vision swimming. He wondered how he was still standing until he tried to move and realized the claws had pierced the wall and were pinning him, one keeping him up by his torn jacket, another beneath his armpit, two more beneath his arm, and the thumb between his legs. Arias laughed and stomped forward, the marble floor cracking beneath his weight as Leon struggled to untangle himself. 

Just as he was about to get his arm free, the claws retracted. Leon barely got his feet on the ground before Arias’s hand snatched him by the ankle and threw him down hard, Leon knocking his head again badly, tasting blood where he bit his tongue. He groaned softly, almost too dazed to move, feeling slightly nauseous. 

The hand around his ankle yanked him down the floor and Leon was suddenly overwhelmed by the stench of scorched meat, sewage and rot and putrefaction. Darkness overtook his swimming vision and there was a low chuckle that reminded him of nightmares of the devil as something unknown dropped onto his body, warm and sticky. Leon struggled to turn onto his side as Arias loomed over him. Whatever was dropping from Arias’s body dripped onto Leon’s face, the liquid reminding him faintly of drool but tasting like blood. Leon gagged and gasped, reaching out blindly, wondering where his gun had gone as he scrambled for purchase, trying to drag himself out from underneath Arias. He couldn’t lift his head and his limbs didn’t feel right, there was a ringing in his ears and something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Agent Kennedy,” Arias growled, his voice close, too close, Leon should never hear that voice so fucking close like it was in his ear, the hot, rancid breath ghosting his skin. Leon’s vision was still spinning and he couldn’t get a handle on anything, just bodies of the people he’d killed giving way beneath his grip, he couldn’t get away. Then that hand had a grip on Leon’s clothes, his jeans, the belt being dragged down, there was suddenly cold marble beneath the skin of his thighs and this—

This—

There was a heat between his legs and a musk that was overwhelming, Arias laughing again as Leon grew desperate, his addled thoughts struggling to piece together what was happening and what it meant and coming up with something Leon could believe. There was the tearing of cloth and Leon’s ass was bare against he marble. He whimpered and tried to say something, tried to tell Arias to stop like he would actually respect it, but Leon’s tongue was numb and he couldn’t think straight past the heat that was sliding between his thighs, wet and pressing between his legs. 

A corpulent hand draped itself over his left hip and Leon kicked, something breaking beneath his boot and Arias howling in pain. Hopefully a finger, maybe something else, Leon just needed to get away. He squirmed onto his front, digging useless nails into the stone floor, crawling away like some wounded animal but too fucking scared to be ashamed of himself. The yowling behind continued, Arias stumbling and shaking the ground. Leon couldn’t give up, he couldn’t let this happen, this wasn’t supposed to happen, please don’t let—

That disgusting hand was back, grabbing Leon by the waist, one arm pinned to his side beneath the overpowering grip, lifting him high in the air. The lights of the ceiling blinded Leon and, for a moment, clarity bled through him. He could hear and feel everything, the throbbing in his head, the shakiness of his breathing, the tremble of his body— the sound of Arias laughing, the jangle of Leon’s belt around his ankles, the slickness of moist flesh, the bruises blossoming under Leon’s skin, the fear in his heart, the tremble of anticipation in Arias’s arm—

The wet heat between Leon’s legs. 

Something blunt pressed insistently at Leon’s entrance, the untouched muscles of his body clenching tighter as Leon tried to keep this from happening, even though he knew it was futile. A dry sob clawed its way up Leon’s throat as he mindlessly punched at the arm that was holding him. Leon squeezed his legs shut as a final ditch effort. Arias, the monster, used his free hand to effortlessly pry Leon’s legs apart, spreading him wide like he was a doll being used for boyish experimentation. The blunt head of— of Arias’s cock, that’s what it was, there were no limbs left— pressed insistently, feeling like the size of a baseball and too much. That sob forced itself from Leon’s throat and he stared up at the ceiling to keep tears from falling. “Please,” he whispered, knowing it was hopeless but knowing he had to try. “Don’t.”

Arias laughed and something slithered up the back of his neck before torn lips brushed Leon’s ears and he was slammed with a dizzying stench of decay as Arias whispered, “No one can save you from me.”

Then the blunt head forced its way inside and Leon went rigid, head thrown back, eyes wide as the air was punched from his lungs by the cock that slammed into his insides and tore him apart. His mouth fell open but he couldn’t make a sound. Arias cackled and didn’t waste his time, lifting and dropping Leon onto his member, making Leon his toy, his warm body to get off into, using Leon like he intended to break him. It was agony, the screaming pain of being stretched too wide with the horror of his organs actually colliding and twisting to accommodate the oversized appendage, Leon’s body not able to handle the size or the speed that he was being fucked. Leon gave up fighting, he couldn’t stop this, he could only hold onto the hand that was gripping him tight and pray he survived.

Warmth spread between his legs, thin tendrils of blood dripping to the floor from where his body had been pushed past its limit. Arias grunted in his ear, forcing Leon to hear and feel the monster’s sickening pleasure even as Leon’s thoughts began to fall away, the slap of skin on skin becoming nothing more than white noise as the pain washed over Leon in waves, drowning him. As Arias slammed him down hair, Leon felt something inside of himself give way, and blood bubbled up his own throat. Internal bleeding, organ damage, something was wrong. As the horror of what was happening to him became a blazing fire to his psyche, the small part of himself existing in denial so the rest could survive told himself that it was likely intestinal, the major organs were still protected, he had two to three hours, maybe more, it could clot, he could live, he’ll be okay, just—

Arias fucked inside harder and Leon finally screamed, the sound torn from his throat with the tears that spilled down his cheeks, tracking through the blood that had burst from his mouth. As Arias began to laugh in earnest, Leon realized he was screaming words, begging Arias to stop, to let him go, that he was too big and Leon’s body couldn’t take this, oh god, he was dying, Arias was killing him, it hurt so much, please stop, please stop, please—

Arias let outa grunt of satisfaction and Leon felt like dying as something gushed and overflowed inside of him, his belly filling with what he could only guess was Arias’s tainted seed. Fear of infection and turning clogged Leon’s throat as Arias ripped his cock from Leon’s body, the shock of being empty so suddenly making Leon shriek, bending forward, hanging limply in Arias’s hand. Then he was dropped to the ground like he was nothing but a used rag and Arias was stomping away, murmuring to himself, feverish ramblings of, “I’ll rip you apart, Redfield.”

Chris.

On the floor, bleeding and twitching, used up and broken beyond what Leon thought was feasibly possible to repair, Leon reached down for his belt and the bottom of his jeans. His boxer briefs were in shreds somewhere around here and he didn’t care. Everything was gnarled up inside of his body and he needed a doctor, a blood transplant, a new body because the one he had now wasn’t his anymore. Shame curled in his chest and a sob rattled his wrecked frame, but he pulled his jeans up his legs and cinched the belt around his waist, forcing himself onto his wobbly legs. 

He didn’t know how he was standing. 

Then, ages away, above, on top of the building, Arias’s hateful voice shouted, “Redfield!” and Leon forced himself to move.

Leon S. Kennedy had to meet Chris upstairs. That thought was the only thing that kept him standing.


End file.
